Grandfather Spot
by JeNnIcA-iS-tHe-BoMb
Summary: The Curtis' meet their grandfather for the first time, but can they handle an old, cold grandfather, especially when that grandfather is namely one Spot Conlon?
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, ok, I know I know, you're probably thinking what I am thinking at the moment, "Is Jennica gonna be able to write a story without getting writers block?" well, this time, the answer is yes! Me and another person, ****Forgotten-Lullaby****, were talking about this earlier. The thing was, who is the Curtis's grandfather? And for a while, I noticed that when Ponyboy has blonde hair, he kind of looks like Spot Conlon from Newies, so BAM! In comes the idea that Spot **_**was **_**their grandfather. So, to get rid of my rambling, here it is.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, or Outsiders, but I do own most of the random OC's that will appear in this story**

Ponyboy walked along the side of the road, going home from the latest movie he had seen. It was a comedy, funny one at that, but he couldn't help but wonder what was going on today. Darry had been talking on the phone to someone, and apparently it was a relative that he didn't know. Their mother's father, or something. He couldn't help but feel a bit nervous, he'd never met this grandfather, and wondered what he'd be like. Maybe he'd be one of those rich old people, or one of those happy, cheerful grandfathers who always had a cheerful story to tell.

What Ponyboy wasn't expecting was walking into his house and seeing a cold looking old man. Blinking in surprise, he looked over at Darry, "Ponyboy, this is your grandfather." The man looked him up and down, as if sizing him up for something. The old man grunted.

"Don't call me grandfather or grandpa or gramps or any of that bulls**t," he replied, surprising Darry and Ponyboy by the straight forwardness, "Call me Spot. That name's gotten me so much notoriety that when someone calls me name da bulls look 'round in fear." Spot smirked a cocky smirk, his eyes twinkling a little, "Oh, and be glad your grandmother aint here boy," he said, walking over to Ponyboy, pointing the top of his cane at him, "Otherwise she'd take a knife and cut your hair. Trust me, as soon as your uncles moved out they never got a haircut until it came to going to your mother's funeral."

Darry nodded his head, understanding that their grandfather, Spot, was not a man to be reckoned with. His eyes looked at Spot, noting similarities in himself and his brothers to this man, their grandfather. He didn't look considerably old, probably in his seventies. Wearing a light green shirt with brown pants, red suspenders and a grey newsie cap he looked tough enough to not be reckoned with. He just hoped Dally wouldn't screw it up.

Meanwhile Ponyboy couldn't help but stare at his grandfather. There were parts of the old, timid man that reminded him of his mother, the way he smirked, and how their grandfather's eyebrows knitted together when he noticed Ponyboy staring at him, "Take a picture, it'll last longer." Nodding his head, he looked over at Darry, wondering what to do about their new found grandfather. But, before he could ask, Sodapop came in, grinning goofily, not even noticing Spot.

Sodapop was about to tell them what had happened at the DX, but before he could say anything, he felt an icy look burning into the back of his head. Turning around, he almost jumped in fright at the icy cold eyes that looked into his. Running a hand through his hair, he chuckled nervously and looked at Darry, "Hey Darry, who the heck is this guy?"

"Sodapop, meet your grandfather. Spot, meet your grandson Sodapop," Darry replied, watching how the old man looked Sodapop up and down, then nodding.

Spot stared at Sodapop, eyeing him up and down before stating, "Who the hell named your brothers Sodapop and Ponyboy. I swear it's like yer tryin' ta mock a former newsie." Sodapop blinked, surprised at how their grandfather as nothing like their mother. Hell he didn't even know what a newsie was. Before he could even think he just had to ask the question.

"What the hell is a newsie, some guy who works with a news broadcaster?" The look on Spot's face made him step back in fear. This wasn't one of Dally's glares, this was a full on, I'm gonna kill you and have no regrets glare.

"A STUPID NEWS BROADCASTER! THAT'S WHAT YOU THINK IT IS!" Spot roared, "DO THEY TEACH YOU NOTHIN' IN SCHOOL!?!? DID YOU NOT LEARN ABOUT THE NEWSBOYS STRIKE OF 1899!??! THE STRIKE THAT GOT RID OF CHILD LABOR?!!? WHAT ARE YA OFF YOUR TROLLEY?" Sodapop, Darry and Ponyboy shook their heads no. The old man sighed, a look of what seemed like sadness came onto his face, he slumped down in a chair, sighing, "The one t'ing that brought pride to many, not even mentioned in a textbook."

"Grand- I mean, Spot," Ponyboy said, finally speaking up, "Maybe, you could tell us?"

He smirked, still looking at his lap, "I could try."


	2. Chapter 2

**Alrighty, chapter two! I have currently decided, that after I publish one chapter, I must immediately start writing the next. So, without further ado, here is the next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: *sigh* I don't own anything except some random OC's, but other than that, everything else is not mine.**

"It all started in the year of eighteen-ninety nine," Spot started, Ponyboy sitting on the couch across from him, listening intently, Sodapop listening from the kitchen, scouring the pantry for food, Darry leaning against the counter, listening and watching their grandfather, "During the time there were kids, poor orphans and runaways, called newsboys. But since girls joined the ranks we just changed it to newsies. On every corner, we'd each have a stack of newspapers, ranging from thirty papes to a hundred. You'se could tell who was a newsie and who was a scab by the color of your hands. If you was a real newsie, yer hands were almost pitch black from the ink," Spot lifted his hands up, and sure enough, after all these years, they were still a bit black, now a fine, grey color.

"Scabs was the kids who thought they could be like us. But that's not until later. In eighteen-ninety nine the price rose because of the war. But after the war, price didn't go down," he looked between his grandchildren, all of them listening intently, "So, down in 'Hattan, me friend Cowboy proposed a strike, a strike that-" he was interrupted by the door flying open, with Two-Bit and Steve came laughing in. Spot narrowed his eyes. "Who's da graftahs?" he asked, his Brooklyn accent thick in his words.

Two-Bit plopped down on the couch next to Ponyboy, asking jokingly, "Who's the old timer hm? I thought you was too old for a babysitter Pony." Spot narrowed his eyes.

"I'se their grandfather, ya little dip-s**t," he said before Pony, Soda or Darry could say anything, "and if ye call me old timer again, I'll beat your arse to a pulp." Two-Bit shut up, Steve asked Sodapop what was going on, and he explained, catching Steve and Two-Bit up to date. After that, he told Spot,

"Continue your story, I wanna know 'bout Cowboy. Was he an actual cowboy?"

Spot smirked, "Cowboy was a liar, but a leader. No real cowboy, anyway, as I was sayin', before those two scabs over there interrupted," he jerked his head over to where Two-Bit was sitting, and then over to Steve who was standing next to Soda, "Cowboy proposed a strike that would lower the price back for us. Of course, it wasn't his idea first. Da Walkin' Mouth, Davey, was the one who decided. Cowboy just knew how ta word it right. Anyways, da newsies united, and a reporter named Denton reported it for us in the New York Sun. I'se didn't come into Cowboy's strike until he came askin' for me help."

"Wait," Steve interjected, "You weren't with this Cowboy fella when it started?"

Spot replied sarcastically, "Oh thanks for pointin' dat tidbit out or me Sherlock, what'd it take ya ta figure it out, a magnifying glass? Now lemme finish," he cleared his voice, "I'se was leader of New York's toughest borough, Brooklyn. The reason I knew all dis was cause I had me 'boidies.' They'se was me ears and eyes of the state. Your grandmother was one of da best, we'se called her Doll. She's da one who told me. So, Cowboy, da Mouth, and another newsie, Boots, little brown boy, came to da docks where me men and I hung around after sellin'."

"Like how Steve and I hang out around the DX?" Sodapop asked.

Spot was silent. After a few seconds, he stated, "What the hell is a god damn DX. I passed at least five of them while walkin' here, and I got no clue why the hell you'd name some place DX. Don't make sense." Everyone but Darry stifled a laughter.

Darry asked seriously, "You walked all the way here? You should have called me I woulda picked you up from the train."

"Cars are for quitters," Spot stated, just as serious as Darry, "If ya got two legs, ya use them. Now what the hell is a god damn DX?" by now Spot was getting impatient. Even after all the decades that had passed, including a century, he was still as impatient as ever.

"A DX," Sodapop, holding back laughter, "Is a gas station for cars. Steve and I work there."

"Thanks, now as I was sayin' before I finally found out what a freaking DX is," Spot started again, "Cowboy, Mouth and Boots came up ta me and asked for help. Back then, even now, I'se known as da king of New York, cause if I'se wanted ta, I could of taken all da boroughs as me own. I ruled with an iron fist, and hearing about this strike was gonna affect me. So, I'se told dem dat they had ta show me that they had what it took ta win."

Now all five boys were interested in what the old man had to say. For once, history was interesting. This old man, this king, had been tough, and still was. He had been the ruler of all of New York, and probably still was, in a way. There was a knock on the door. Getting up, Pony answered the door to find Johnny and Dally. "Hey Pony," Johnny said, looking around, shaking a little, "Can we come in? Don't wanna go home." He nodded, letting his friend and Dally in. They looked at Spot when they entered the room. Spot had a leg crossed, hands folded together and his cane at his side. He looked like someone who'd get up and beat your heart out in a second. Dally raised an eyebrow.

Spot grunted, "Why the hell do your friends always interrupt when I'm talkin'? Someone get me a cig, I'se need one."

"Spot you can't smoke in here," Darry said sternly, as if talking to someone younger than him, "And for your information their names are Johnny and Dallas."

He leaned forward, studying Johnny and Dally, "Hm…" he got up, circling the two. Johnny looked nervous, while Dally put on an agitated look. Circling them, he said, "The shrimp's a wimp, he'd belong in 'Hattan, your buddy Dallas… I'se seen 'im before. Ye think yer all dat don't cha?" he asked, walking in front of Dally, pointing the tip of his cane at him, "Ye think yer all tough cause ye were part of a gang down in Queens, and that ye'd been in fights where ya always won. Yer worse than a scab. You'se a jackass; all bark, no bite and full of s**t."

Dally looked down at the old man, "Who the hell are you, thinkin' ya can talk to me like dat, _gramps,_" he emphasized the word gramps, as if taunting the old man. Before he could even blink Spot had punched Dally in the jaw, hearing a slight crack. Stumbling back, he held his jaw, running his tongue over his teeth to see if they were still there. They were, but his mouth was bleeding pretty bad.

"Me?" Spot said, narrowing his eyes, smirking at Dally, a cold, cruel, 'I just beat you without trying' smirk, "I'se Spot Conlon ya little s**t."


	3. Chapter 3

**Ok, so, I didn't get to write this **_**immediately **_**after publishing the last chapter, but that's only cause it was late and I had school the next day. -_- do I even have to describe school? Anyway, here's the next chapter! And remember, reviews are lovely =)**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own Newsies, Outsiders, Muse, Bear, Berlin, or Jax.**

Dally looked in shock at the old, aging man before him. He remembered hearing about the infamous Spot Conlon, while in New York, but he'd never met the man in person. Spot's smirk grew, "Now, am I allowed ta finish me story, or am I gonna have ta soak Winston over there?" They all shook their heads, and Spot grunted, nodding his head and sticking his cane in the loop of his suspenders, crossing his arms and looking at all the young men, nodding his head and continuing the story.

"So after that, I'se thought, thought and thought and thought. I had three of me newsies, Doll, Muse, and Bear 'elp me out. Bear was one of me boids, but he could fall asleep at anytime, anywhere. Now _Muse, _god she was a pain in the a**. Sure, she was Doll's friend, but I'se swear I could push her off the roof of the lodge everyday and she wouldn't stop givin' me s**t. I'se told them to prepare me men for helping. Doll had reported that the World was gonna-"

"Wait, the world? Why would the world be on your back?" Sodapop interjected. Spot looked agitated.

"The New York World! Ya know the newspaper!" he groaned, "They really don't teach ya anything at all! Now, as I was sayin', the World was gonna send some graftahs down to try and beat up Cowboy's kids. So, me men and I lined up on the roofs where the fight was goin' on, and BAM!" he took his cane and banged the bottom on the floor, making a loud _thud_! "We'se took them from the skies, and soaked 'em so bad they didn't know what happened."

Now, much to the surprise of Darry, every single person in their gang was intrigued with the man. "How old were you when this happened?" he asked amused, not quite as intrigued as the others. He didn't know why, but he just wasn't too interested in newspapers and strikes.

"…I was sixteen, going on seventeen. Most thought I'se was fifteen, but most knew I was sixteen. During the strike kids figured that out, and to never judge a person by their height." Spot was a short man, roughly only five feet, five inches. Because of this, everyone back then thought the short, Irish man was younger than he stated. But now, people thought him older, since you always got shorter after you hit forty. "I'll be eighty-three years old soon, which is another t'ing I need ta ask of ya. If I live to be more than ninety, don't be afraid ta shoot me in me sleep, god knows I'll need it. Your grandmother might tell you the same thing.

"Anyway, so, on with me story I'se plan on finishin' it soon. So aftah that, we went down to a restaurant that's cheap in 'Hattan. Tibby's. I'se amazed I remember the joint. There we'se decided to have a rally. Newsies came from everywhere to Irving Hall; Bronx, Queens, Harlem, Long Island, Midtown, everywhere. There wasn't a newsie in New York that didn't get to that Rally. We was broken up though, after a performance by Medda, the Swedish Meddowlark. We'se went ta the court, and we found out that Cowboy's real name wasn't Jack Kelly, it was Francis Sullivan. Da lousy scab."

His eyes narrowed at the memory, "We'se got out cause of a reporter who paid our bail, but Cowboy joined da scabs. I'se woulda killed 'im if da bulls hadn't stopped me. But, he teamed back with us at the last minute, and printed da Newsies Banner, spreading the word about child labor and such. Aftah that, Teddy Roosevelt found out, and we brought down child labor. Even got ta ride his carriage too." Spot smirked.

"Wow, Teddy Roosevelt? ….Who's that?" Sodapop asked, not quite remembering who he was.

Spot was dumbfounded, "He was da governor of New York, became president in nineteen-oh-one. Didn't cha learn that in class?" Sodapop shook his head.

"I dropped outta school cause I'm-"

"Don't even finish that sentence," Spot cut in, narrowing his eyes, "No one in me family is dumb. Yer only dumb if ya don't try ta learn. Yer grandmother isn't dumb, but it was hard for her to learn when she never got the education you have da chance ta get, and the fact that she's got what doctahs call now dyslexia. Other than that, no one's stupid. Sure, ya make the occasional stupid mistake, but that's it. Now ya gotta at least try ta get an education, got it Sodapop?"

Soda nodded, almost understanding what he said. He thought he was stupid, but Spot had it set in his mind that no one was dumb unless they made the occasional stupid mistake. "So that's all that happened?" he asked, "Did the World change the price back?"

Spot shook his head, "Nah, they kept the price, but now we'se could return whatever papes we didn't sell. Pretty fair, but not what we aimed for, I'm surprised Cowboy didn't demand more money. He almost left his men for it too, wanted ta go down ta Santa Fe." Ponyboy listened, and now, instead of fearing the man with the cold eyes, he just thought him a person with a story. Looking over at the others, he noticed how they looked; Johnny looked at this man with a respect he showed Dally, he knew the man before him was tough, and cold, but would stick up for what was right, Steve looked like he wanted to learn more about Spot, wanted to know about the stranger before him, Two-Bit for once wasn't making a remark, but more over seemed a bit interested, and Dally…

Well, if Dally could have, he would have hero worshipped Spot Conlon right there and then. But he didn't, he didn't want to look like a wimp. But, Dallas Winston had admit to himself, never in his life had he thought he would meet the infamous Spot Conlon, the man the cops wouldn't mess with, and the one other thugs on the street tried to be like. The man was a King, and that's how it probably would always be. "Now," he heard the old man say, getting up from his seat, "I'm hungry. Anyone else?" Darry nodded his head.

"I'll order a pizza." Spot nodded, and started to look around the house, trying to find something that might have belonged to his daughter. Seeing nothing, he leaned against a wall, and notice all the boys were still staring at him. Normally, if he was younger, he would have sent them off with a glare, but that would have amused the boys even _more. _God damn did these guys not know that hero worship wasn't what he was going for?

"God Damn, did your father not teach ya it's rude ta stare?" he stated, and all the boys quickly averted their eyes. He smirked, much better. Looking around to make sure none of the boys were looking, he pulled out an old, crinkled picture. It was taken when he was thirteen, and it was of all the Brooklyn newsies, before he became leader. Doll, and her twin brother Soldier had been next to him, Doll on his right, Soldier on his left. They had their arms on his shoulders and he had an arm around Doll's waist, and Soldier's shoulders. That had been the first time he had ever shown a bit more affection to Doll than the others. This was before Soldier died, of course, but it was still nice to see the picture.

To Doll's right were two other newsies he knew fairly well; Muse and Bear. Bear looked groggy, just like he always had, and Muse just looked happy. They were standing near Doll, Muse and her having their arms around eachother's shoulders and laughing. Bear was popped in beside the two. Then, on Soldier's left were two younger boys, Jax and Singer, along with a taller boy named Berlin. He remembered Jax because he had two different eye colors, and Singer cause he was growin' fast. Berlin had a goofy smile on, just like he always had. Trash, the old leader, was behind them. He had paid good money for a picture of all of them together, before he left. There were a couple of the pictures, and certain newsies had gotten a copy. Spot couldn't help the smile that came on his face.

After Trash had left, those were his newsies. He trained them to be tough, and they were. He remembered sitting on the roof with Doll, about a week after Soldier had died. Doll had stopped moving for a while after Soldier died, which was how she got her newsie name, and he just remembered… well, talking to her.

"_Hey Dollface," a younger Spot said to the girl, perched on the corner of the roof, staring out at the city. Sitting next to her, he hung his legs off the edge of the lodge, leaning on his elbows, watching the sunset go down on Brooklyn._

"_Spot," she replied, her voice cool and even, but quiet. She had gotten quieter ever since Soldier died. Dollface was something only Spot had called her, probably because, even though Muse was her best friend and practically her sister, along with Bear being like a brother, Spot was closest. There were things he knew, that others didn't. That's how they got along, he knew her pressure points, she didn't know his._

_It just worked out that way._

"_So, Doll," he asked lazily, "How was sellin' for you'se?"_

"_Fine," she replied, still looking forward like there was nothing else to look at, "Perfectly fine." Spot raised an eyebrow. Something was wrong. Sure, she was moving again, but was Doll happy again?_

"_Doll, look at me," he asked, nodding his head a little and looking at her. She wouldn't look at him, she kept her eyes ahead of her. "Doll… look at me," he stated slowly. She still wouldn't look at him. Her dark brown hair had greated a curtain between her dark brown eyes and his icy blue eyes. "Johanna Johnson you look at me right now." She looked over, and he could see why Doll wouldn't look at him. It was all in her eyes._

_Sorrow, pain, anger, and many mixed confusions. "Why'd he hafta be a hero?" her voice cracked a little._

"_Dollface we can't control fate, we don't know why he did tha-"_

"_But why. He had a future, I don't. That knife was meant for me and he knew it."_

"_Doll-"_

"_WHY THE HECK DID HE HAVE TO BE A HERO!?" she cried out, tears streaming down her face, "WHY DIDN'T HE JUST LET ME DIE LIKE ANYONE ELSE WOULD OF?!"_

"_THAT'S BULLS**T DOLL!" he yelled back, "Muse wouldn't have let you die, Bear wouldn't have let you die, I wouldn't have let ya die. He let you live because he knew you had something else to live for, Doll. He wanted you to live so that way he could go be with your dad." That was the first time Spot had yelled at her, but she needed it. He didn't know how to give her sympathy, but this was how she was gonna get it. Doll wiped away the tears that had fallen with her sleeve._

"_Sorry," she croaked quietly, "Don't know what came over me."_

"_It's fine Dollface, just- just don't talk like that again. Ok?"_

"_Ok."_

"_You'se gotta promise."_

"_I promise."_

"_You'se swear?"_

"_Of course I'se swear, Spot."_

That had been the first time the two had talked more than reports and whatever else happened. Looking up, he saw that they were all staring at him again, he sighed, rolled his eyes and crammed the picture back in his pocket. Ponyboy was about to say something but a knock on the door stopped him. "Finally," Spot said, as Darry opened the door and paid the delivery man, "I'se starvin'."


	4. Chapter 4

**Alrighty Chapter 4! Looks like I'm not procrastinating a lot, like the last time a tried to write a story! Well, this one's a **_**whole **_**lot of fun to write, so I plan on continuing.**

**Disclaimer: Alright, you know the drill, I don't own any of the OC's mentioned in the previous chapter, and I don't own either newsies or the wonderful Outsiders. Don't kill.**

Darry paid for the pizza, and put it on the counter in the kitchen. All of the boys grabbing a slice and going back to the living room. Spot couldn't believe they wouldn't eat in the kitchen together. Did his grandsons ever eat together? He remembered when the old lodge owner had made him, along with the other newsies eat together in the main hall, where Trash, Toothpick, and Stranger had put a bunch of tables, whether it be a pool table or even a coffee table, together and had it set, while the owner of the lodge made a nice dinner. He even made sure what girl newsies Brooklyn had at the moment wore dresses, and the boys dressed in their nicest.

"_Do I have to wear this?" a young, six year old Spot had groaned. Trash nodded, straightening out his own clothes. They both were looking nice, along with all the other boys, now they just had to wait for the girls at the bottom of the stairs. Trash's girl was finishing up the little girls. Looking over, Spot looked at Soldier, who seemed totally calm. It disgusted him. How could he handle having to wait like this? Girls were gross anyway! But, he watched as Trash's girl, Velvet, walked down with the other girls, her long black hair curled in ringlets, wearing a nice, off white dress. She smiled at the boys._

"_Boys, meet the girls," Velvet said while Trash moved his arm and snaked it around Velvet's waist, kissing the top of her head. All the younger children looked away, a chorus of 'ews' and 'gross' were heard, causing the couple to laugh._

"_Hi Spot, hey Soldier," Doll, known as Johanna back then, said. She was wearing a dress that belonged to Velvet's niece, but it fit nicely. It was dark blue, and Velvet had put her hair in a ballerina's bun. Soldier smiled at his sister, while Spot nodded. _

"_Hey Johanna," they said together, and the trio walked over to the tables, sitting down. That was the first time any of the Brooklyn newsies had sat together for a meal._

After Spot grabbed his slice of pizza, much to his grandchildren's surprise, he sat at the kitchen table, and ate his pizza silently. Surprisingly, Johnny was the first to get up, grab another slice, and sit at the table with the old man. Spot nodded at him, as if saying, 'glad to know someone else knows that it's nice to be gathered with people at a table then on some couches while eating a meal.' And since Johnny had gone, Dally and Ponyboy came and sat at the table.

Not wanting to look like idiots, Steve, Sodapop and Two-Bit joined them, each grabbing whatever chair they could find and putting it at the table. Finally Darry grabbed a chair and sat with them. "So Spot," Johnny said, looking at his pizza while eating, "Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Only on accident."

"How long were you a leader?" Dally asked, grabbing his third slice of pizza.

"I'se was leader for five years, then I'se passed the leadership down to the next person," Spot took a bite of his pizza. If it was food, he would eat it. Never in his life had he been a picky eater. If he had been a picky eater, he would have never survived in the mean streets of Brooklyn. You ate what you could there.

"…..were you ever part of the Mafia?" Two-Bit asked goofily. Well Spot had killed someone and had a boat load of respect, he had to be part of the mob!

"Who the hell told you that bulls**t?" Spot replied, "I'm Irish, I'd only be part of the Irish Mafia, and I'se never wanted to part of that kind of deal." He never wanted to join that. All he had wanted was to keep his family safe, and getting involved in crime hadn't been the answer. Keeping them safe meant Doll and he had to keep a low profile, and try to _not _get in trouble. They ate in silence for a while, until Sodapop asked a question on all of the Curtis's minds.

"Spot, how come our mom never talked about you or grandma?" Spot went stopped eating, holding the pizza slice in the air. He sighed.

"Your mother lived in an apartment with your grandmother and I lived paycheck, to paycheck. You'se would be ashamed to, if your parents both had criminal records, and were living in a crummy apartment. That's why she left New York , and came here to Tulsa. That is why she didn't talk 'bout Doll and I." Spot went back to eating, but for the rest of the meal, it was quiet. No one knew what to say. So that was why their mother never talked about her parents. She didn't want her children to know that even before, she had never lived in a truly, nice house without having to work hard to keep it.

"It's a curse," Spot mused, "All Conlon's have bad money luck. No one can change it, and if I could, I'd never change it anyway." Everyone at the table wondered why. Darry was sure that anyone would change that. But the more he thought about it, he looked around the table. If they had been rich, the gang would have never been brought together. He nodded in agreement at what Spot had said. The old man was wize, and he was looking forward to having this man around the house. Ponyboy and Sodapop could learn a thing or two from him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Phew *wipes away fake sweat* finally got this chapter written up. I need to work on my stories. Special thanks go to ****cybale ****for the support and ****Are You Ready ****cause I forced her at school to read my story and yea XD she had a hard time understanding the newsies parts but oh well. HERE IT IS! TADA!**

After pizza Spot went outside, leaning against the wall near the door, watching the sunset. He was old, and knew he'd never be able to fight at this age. Hell, these were his only grandchildren. His sons' children weren't like the Curtis's, and they had wondered what their mother, his daughter, was like. He sighed, reminiscing how his little girl came to be. Born a Conlon died a Curtis. Her death had hit him and Doll hard. That was the only daughter they had, their youngest, the baby of the family and she had died. The boys had been so sad too.

Born Aishilinn Alice Conlon, she was a little bundle of sunshine for her parents. They weren't rich, but that had never bothered little Ashy. But as she got older… she became ashamed of how her parents couldn't call police for anything, at the fact that they had to live paycheck to paycheck. She loved the family, but she felt like she was being a burden. So, before Spot or Doll could even say anything, she had moved to Tulsa when she was eighteen. For a long time she was single, but then soon enough she had her boys.

But… then she had died. That practically killed him and Doll. Their baby was gone. Spot had been used to death, and so had Doll, but it was still hard on them. Very hard. Losing a child cannot be described, for one would never be able to describe it. His grandsons would never know that feeling, the feeling of losing a child, why? Because they'd never lost anyone more than a parent. Sure, losing a parent hurt, if the parent _cared._ Spot's father never cared for him, only his mother. Doll only liked her father, so both of them knew what both losing a parent and a child was like now.

By far it had been worse on his wife, since Aishilinn had been her only girl. Her baby girl. If anyone was a protective mother it had been Doll. She had always made sure her boys got an education when Jonathan had been dyslexic, and when Marcus wouldn't become more social she had made him get out there and talk to kids. And Aishy… with baby Aishy she taught her everything. Spot had always made sure they were on the right track, making sure they looked after each other. That's how it had been, before Baby Aishy wanted out.

Spot guessed, she just didn't want the life anymore. Looking out at the street, he watched kids trying to look tough, others just walking, talking, looking over at him. Glaring at them, they averted their eyes, and he couldn't help the smirk on his face. He still had it. He was still a king. If the boys back home had seen this… they wouldn't have been surprised. Some of them were already dead. Race, Cowboy, Skittery, hell even Mush was gone. Spot, and a couple of his men, were practically the only ones left of the eighteen-ninty nine newsboys army.

Yep, he had had the good life.

Sellin' papes for a penny each, hollering the headlines out, that had been his life. He looked down at his hands and half smiled, reminiscing the memories of bein' on the street, hawking headlines and helping save the day when the strike needed saving. Now, his hands weren't the pitch black of a newsies, only a tint of grey, whatever couldn't have washed off over time. Hell he never tried to wash off the ink, it just would. Whenever he was set in a mood, he could look at his hands, and see who he was, or had been before.

But then something happened. He grew up. Everyone grew up, hell every single one of them didn't even wanna grow up, but why had they? Simple. They had to. When he worked in the factory with Bear, he knew that Bear wished life was how it had been. Sometimes he'd see Doll looking through old pictures, ones of when they could afford, some sketches someone gave her, or hear her talk about those times with Muse. He could hear his grandsons and their friends inside, joking and goofing off, but he'd hear them stop occasionally and look outside, wondering what the old, tough, Spot Conlon was thinking of. But the thing was they'd never know.

"Hey Pone," Soda said, looking out the window at Spot, "What do ya think he's thinkin' 'bout?"

"I don't know," Pony replied, "Maybe he's homesick?"

"He's reminiscing the old days," Johnny said, looking out with Soda, "You can tell. Sometimes some of you get that look when your remembering something real nice. Except you guys smile, instead of half smiling."

"Johnny cake how come you understand him better than us?" Two-bit asked.

"Cause I know what it's like to life on the streets. It's just an understanding of people. He lived on the streets his whole life, and I've survived this long. Hell I bet he knows I'm abused to. He knows things."

"What kind of things?" Steve asked like a smart alec, "Does he know who's gonna win the next presidential election? Or when the world's gonna end?"

"No," Johnny stated defensively, "He just knows things. Like when it's gonna rain cause he's been outside long enough, and when to buy things from when they cost too much. You saw how Dally reacted to seeing Spot, he's tough, but a hero."

A voice came from the doorway, "I'se nobody's hero, no matter how much your grandmother says I am. Don't underestimate my hearing." Spot strode in, looking for a place to sit and Soda got up, moving to sit on the ground next to Ponyboy. "You know boys," he said, sitting down, "When I was your age, I had me some little boidies, they reported everything to me. I'se don't need them to know that people are still talkin' 'bout me, even if they mean no harm."


	6. Chapter 6

**GASP! I finally wrote this chapter. School's almost over, which means I can finally get off my lazy behind and actually write!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Muse, Bear, and Berlin. Nor do I own the Greasers, or Spot. Those belong to S.E. Hinton and Disney**

The boys gasped. Johnny started to stutter, "S- s- sorry mis- mister Spot. We didn't know you was there." They were all trying to stumble over an excuse as to why they were talking about him behind his back, but Johnny's was the only audible one. Spot looked over the boys; Johnny's eyes were wide as plate dishes, Soda and Steve were trying to jumble up an excuse, Pony had a look on his face that looked like he was thinkin' somethin' up, along with Two-Bit though with more a sarcastic look on his face. The only two who didn't think up an excuse were Dally and Darry.

Looking over them all, he almost felt as if he was back at the lodge. Bear had just woken up and was trying to think up an excuse for falling asleep. Muse and Doll were trying to find words to say, and Singer was trying to say something to avert his attention. And Berlin, well, he was just having a grin on his face, glad that he could say more words in English. Spot stood a bit taller, as if he was seventeen again. Looking over them, with a stern face, he stated as simply as possible.

"Shut up."

The boys were dumbfounded. They thought some smart retort was going to come on for that, but that was all there was? Shut up? Steve was about to say something but the look on Spot's face kept him quiet. He knew better than that to get on Spot's nerves. But, Spot seemed to remember something, and Pony, in order to avoid the tension building up, said quickly, "I'm gonna go get the mail."

"I'll come with," was Johnny's response, and the two boys almost sprinted out of the house. As soon as they were away from the porch, and hopefully far away to a point where Spot wouldn't hear them, Johnny said, "Dang Ponyboy, your grandfather sure knows how to gain authority. Soon enough if he's here long enough Tim Shepard will be scared of him."

"He ain't that bad," he replied, trying to defend the old man, "Just… timid." Johnny snorted.

"If he's timid than I'm rich." When they reached the mailbox, Pony opened it, looking through the mail, and a bit of a shocked look came on his face. "What is it, Pony?"

"It's a letter for Spot," he stated in disbelief.

"Lemme see," Johnny snatched the envelope from Pony, and whistled, "Well I'll be damned, it is for him. Wonder who knows he's here."

"Probably his whole gang from back then."

"Maybe, let's go give it to 'im. Maybe he knows who sent it." The two walked back in, and silently handed Spot the letter. He quirked an eyebrow, but opened it, and read it over. They saw something in Spot's eyes they had never seen before. Anger, confusion, sorrow. What did this letter say? It dropped from his hands. His head was still tilted as if he was reading the leader. It looked almost as if tears were forming in the old man's eyes too.

"'Scuse me for a moment," he said quietly, his voice hoarse, cracking a little, "I'se gotta go outside for a bit." Instead of heading towards the front door, like he had before, he went for the back, closing the door behind him. The gang looked at each other, then Ponyboy grabbed the letter, and the others crowded around him. The handwriting was a bit messy, but it was readable. The letter looked as if someone had tried to find the right words for it all, and it seemed like there were a few spots where it looked like tears had fallen.

_Dear, To My Good Friend, __Spot, _

_Hey, it's your buddy, Singer. Remember me? You used to always kid around with me, and make me make you sandwiches and stuff. You __were, __are my idol. But sadly, I have to be the one to tell you this, because there's no one else to tell._

_Doll is dead._

_Your boys were staying here in Brooklyn with her until she could have gotten a train ticket down to Tulsa, and I came by to visit her sometimes. __She kept tellin' me how she was getting more tired lately and stuff__, she was a bit under the after you left, and I figured it was just cause she missed you, and wished she could finally see her grandchildren. __Boy was I wrong, __ damn I'm stupid._

_She died in her sleep, thankfully, so it wasn't too depressing. Your boys are sad, but are coping. I guess they just didn't realize Doll was leaving that soon. I hope this is the right address of your grandsons, otherwise I'm screwed and when I die, Muse'll beat me up for it. Oh, and Doll also wrote up a will. I think she knew she was gonna die soon. _

_The funeral's next weekend, by the way. I think its just gonna be you, me, your boys and their kids, along with your grandkids, if they decide to come with, of course. I wish I didn't have to write you like this, telling you that she's gone now, but I wanted you to know __because I think, that maybe, I don't know for sure, that she wants you to live nice and long, __that she loved you a whole lot, maybe more than most of her family, and that she probably doesn't want you to go off killing yourself._

_Your former newsie, sincerely, __ Your pal, and follower,_

_Singer_

_P.S. Both Muse and Doll owe me fifty bucks, as to carry on the bet. I understand I most likely will not receive this cash from both, since it wasn't written in their wills, but I just hope you know, because I don't know if I'm gonna outlive you or not._

The boys looked in shocked. Soda looked teary eyed, "Well this is just great!" he replied, his voice cracking, "She's dead and we never got the chance to meet her!"

"Shut up Soda, and think of how Spot feels 'bout this," Darry said, "One of us should go out there and talk to him. Pony? Would you go check up on him?"

"Sure."


End file.
